Thriller
by SnazzinessRules
Summary: A series 9 Halloween fic, which definitely doesn't intend to be taken seriously. Just some much needed relief from reality. Rated T...for now.
1. Chapter 1

**Why do we do it? Every year we get to the night of a special occasion and decide we should have written a fic...despite neglecting most of the rest of our collection. Doh!**

**Anyway, here is this year's Halloween offering. Enjoy ;)**

**Set sometime during Series 9, but to be taken with a pinch of...well, a pinch of sugar, actually, seeing as it's fluff. If you want happy fun, you have to excuse a few liberties with the plot!  
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**Disclaimer: we don't own Spooks. If we did, Ruth's wardrobe might have been overhauled in this direction a while back...kidding!**

**For Tiina x**

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It was an utterly, _utterly_ ridiculous thought. In fact, it was beyond that. It was certifiable and worthy of Tring.

This was the man who she had turned down, kept at arms length. This was the man she had refused to let love her.

However, this was also the man who, even though blissfully unaware, frequently woke her in the dead of the night, who left her sweaty and breathless. This was the man who she desperately wanted to admit she was wrong to.

This was the man, who, now that Ruth had consumed an overly large glass of wine and mulled over the notion for several hours, was going to receive the treat of his life this Halloween.

…

_Earlier that week:_

It had all started on Friday, in fact, on the way to work. Having finished her latest book earlier in the week, and short of something to read on the tube to work, she had grabbed one of Beth's magazines and stuffed it into her handbag without a second thought.

_Halloween for Grown Ups_ shouted an orange and black title, as she'd taken a seat and opened it up. A woman covered by nothing more than a strategically arranged cobweb of black leather winked out of the page and a topless man in devil horns poked his head out of the corner below a paragraph of text.

She hadn't even intended to read it; after all, she hated Halloween. She certainly hadn't intended to end up taking anything on board. And she definitely didn't think that she'd end up being plagued by suggestion #4 for the rest of the working day and beyond.

_4) Why not play a little 'Trick or Treat?' of your own? Give your special someone a Halloween to remember with a wicked costume. Put on your thickest winter coat, ring on their doorbell unannounced, with a flash of your winning smile and more besides, then show them exactly what a sinful time they can have._

Oh God. That was it. She was done for. Her thoughts had been very much on the wrong track for the entirety of morning briefing, as she imagined herself in a variety of costumes, mentally dressed (or rather half-dressed) Harry as the chisel-torso devil-man from the magazine, and conjured up imagined responses to her turning up at his door.

Still, she had thought, a little fantasy had never hurt anyone.

…

_Earlier that day:_

Well, that might have been true. Fantasy had, indeed, rarely hurt anyone. Indeed, she lived in a fantasy world a great deal of the time. However, when faced with the prospect of seriously acting on it, despite all her better judgement, the prospect became a little scary.

The truth was, she just hadn't been able to shake the notion of turning up on his doorstep and letting him know in no uncertain terms how much she regretted her coldness toward him. Words, although technically a forte of hers, with the many languages she spoke, never did seem to work for her where Harry was concerned and the more she'd tossed and turned on Friday and Saturday night, the more she'd considered that action might be better. Certainly in her dreams, it definitely had proved a successful course of action.

And so, at half past three that afternoon, she had dashed madly through groups of shoppers so that she could scrabble through the high street in order to throw together something vaguely resembling a sexy Halloween outfit.

And sod it, it had been difficult. Everything had either been too gimmicky, or too plastic, or too tacky or too…crotchless. She'd felt a hot blush rise in her face as a close inspection of an Ann Summers window display revealed far more than…well, far more than she'd ever reveal in a Halloween costume, anyway!

She had glanced at her watch again at ten to four. Frantic mothers were dragging moaning children, life-sized skeletons and pumpkins along behind them and doorways watched over by motion-sensitive figurines seemed to cackle or moan every time someone passed. With a panic, she had realised she had ten minutes until closing time and no costume had grabbed her attention.

Unless…? Yes! She had practically ran out of the very depleted costume shop and galloped down the high street to the lingerie shop at the very end. Lord help her, but she had suddenly figured out exactly what she was going to wear. All she needed was the courage to actually put it on and go round.

…

_Present:_

Courage, it seemed, was a lot more abundant at the bottom of a wineglass than she'd ever realised. Putting down the empty receptacle, she sucked in a deep breath, grabbed the carrier bag from the side of the sofa and headed upstairs. It was half past five, and if she was going to do this, then it needed to be now. Preferably before the night grew too old, and definitely before the Dutch courage wore off.

Once upstairs and having showered and dried, Ruth carefully took the time to curl her hair, piling it high at the back of her head so that it cascaded downwards. Then, with great care and attention, she applied her usual foundation and blush and turned her attention to the detail around the eyes and lips; smoky grey shadow, rimmed around the eyes, black liner and slick black mascara; vampish red lipstick, lined to make the most of her cupid's bow.

And then, of course, she turned her attention to her costume. The red and black satin and lace basque hugged tightly to her figure in all the right places and accentuated her cleavage without actually putting too much of it on display. Happy with her purchase and how she looked in it she reached for the nylon stockings and eased herself into them. She couldn't help but wonder how they might later be removed and found herself fumbling with the fastenings on her suspender belt as her mind strayed into decidedly wicked territory. Would he appreciate them, she wondered, run his fingertips over the length of her leg and graze the top of her thigh with warm hands? She certainly hoped so.

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**More to come, but only if you're good and review :)**

**Oh...and there may be firework fic next week too if we can manage it.**

**xx  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry it's taken so long for the second installment to be published - it's mostly my fault! **

**We hope it's worth the wait. **

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far.**

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"Bugger," he cursed, loudly, as he dragged himself out of his chair for the fourth time that hour. He was beginning to wonder why he hadn't just switched out the lights and spent the evening sipping his whisky alone, in the dark, instead of being interrupted from his thoughts every five minutes by children banging on the door, screaming 'Trick or Treat!' who then seemed less than impressed with the treats he had to offer. Had he been in a more forgiving mood he might have agreed with them that a couple of digestive biscuits was a bit of a rubbish treat but, as it was, he thought they should feel lucky that he didn't send them away with a flea in their ear.

The knocking sounded again. Louder this time and more insistent. "Just a minute!" he yelled, nearly crushing the biscuits in his hand as he gripped them and marched out into the hallway. "Bloody ungrateful little gits," he grumbled, under his breath, as he made his way to the door and wrenched it open expecting to find a gaggle of ghoulish faces looking expectantly at him. "There's no need to knock the bloody door down-" he griped only to stop abruptly when he realised who was on his doorstep.

"Trick or treat, Harry?" she said, coyly, bearing a set of glow in the dark fangs at him.

"Trick?" he asked, totally confused and expecting to wake up any moment as he watched her ruby red lips draw into a pout.

"I was thinking," she whispered, seductively, holding his gaze as her nimble fingers untied the belt to her raincoat, "treat." She swallowed hard and flashed him a saucy smile as she slowly parted the coat and revealed her outfit to him, inch by inch. His ragged intake of breath combined with a soft curse was confirmation that she held his attention and her confidence grew as she saw his gaze lower to her chest and shamelessly roam her body. It should have felt wrong or indecent, standing brazenly on his doorstep in little more than her underwear, but she had never felt as sexy or as adored as she did in that moment. Every sweep of his eyes and catch in his breathing heightened her excitement and she flexed her leg drawing his attention to her stocking clad thighs.

He wanted her, of that there was no doubt in either of their minds, and the sight of her leaning provocatively against his doorframe only served to remind him of that fact. Twenty years ago he'd have dragged her inside, pushed her hard against the wall and taken advantage of what was so obviously on offer without so much as a thought but now, despite his definite interest and desire, he was worried that she was there for all the wrong reasons. When he seemed to finally regain control over his wandering gaze, hesitation seemed to grip him, and quite what to do next was beyond him.

"You're wondering why I'm here," she stated, quietly, as she watched him from her position against the door. She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that seduction over discussion might not have been the best course of action.

"I'm in no doubt as to what it is you're here for Ruth, I'm hardly blind. Or naïve." She blushed for the first time since her arrival and he decided he liked it. The contrast of her outfit and her sudden bashfulness amused him and he realised that she would never cease to amaze him.

"I thought this was what you wanted? That _I_ was what you wanted?" she asked, struggling to remain calm when her insides were burning with shame at her brazenness and a healthy dose of fear that he was about to reject her.

"You are," he stated, grasping both her hands and leading her inside until the door was closed and she was standing in front of him and he was looking into her eyes, "but I am well beyond the point where one night of passion would be enough."

A small half smile tugged at her delicate lips. "You want more," she breathed, in total understanding.

"Much, much more," he murmured.

"And if that's what I'm offering?"

"Is it?" he demanded, voice low as he grasped her roughly by the shoulders and pinned her to the wall.

"Yes," she countered, chest heaving and pulse racing at his forcefulness, "yes it is."

"Oh my," he murmured, feeling distinctly warm despite the cold October air which still hung in the hallway.

"I take it you're pleased?" she asked, eagerly.

"More than I could possibly say," he countered, as he finally gained the courage to let his hot gaze resume. His eyes travelled up her stocking-clad legs, across her satin basque and then lingered on her breasts before he lifted his head and met her eyes. "I think, perhaps, we should move this conversation from my hallway, don't you?"

He gestured with an outstretched arm and stood off to the side to allow her through to the front room, and was rewarded with a brush of her fingers along his chest as she sauntered inside. He closed the lounge door behind them both and was acutely aware of the pounding of his heart and the adrenalin coursing through his veins.

She stood in the middle of the room, somehow a little lost after all of her bravado, and listened to the soft _thunk_ of the closing door and the tread of footsteps on carpet. This was it.

Soft fingers gently tucked a few stray curls of hair out of the way and she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck, exactly as she had imagined it had so many times.

"I want you," she whispered, and her whole body trembled with the relief of finally saying it. "Need you. And I'm sorry."

His lips closed the gap and brushed against the nape of her neck. Slowly, she rolled her head backwards, leaning into him, and his arms moved around her, sliding under the lapels of her open coat. His fingers glided over the silk material of the corset and down until the met with the brief expanse of thigh which peeped out between suspender belt and stockings.

"Harry," she sighed, and his fingers suddenly fisted into the material of her coat and turned her until she faced him.

"Come to bed with me," he said, softly.

He would always remember the nod of her head and the smile on her face as she leant in to him and whispered, "Every night. Always."

The End

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**Thanks for reading. **


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